Is he Wearing a Fez?
by Primavera Rathbone
Summary: Garibaldi and Marcus investigate reports of a strange object in the loading bay. I spy with my little eye something that begins with "T"...


**Author's Note:** I got inspired to write this one weekend when I decided to watch nothing but season 3 episodes of Babylon 5 and the current season of Doctor Who. It may not seem like a legit story, but alas, I wrote it. Enjoy!

_**Is he Wearing a Fez?**_

Security Chief Michael Garibaldi huffed in annoyance as Marcus Cole strode up alongside him. It was bad enough that he was on his way to investigate a suspicious object that had just materialized in one of _Babylon 5_'s numerous loading bays; the joyful, optimistic, humorous, _aggravating_ Ranger joining him only made matters worse.

"Hello, Michael," Marcus greeted jubilantly, nearly skipping as he caught up with him.

"Hiya Marcus," Garibaldi answered, sounding quite bored.

The Ranger balanced on the foot closest to Garibaldi and put his head on his shoulder. "Where you goin'?"

"Loading Bay 3," Garibaldi said with a roll of his eyes.

Much to his chagrin, Marcus did not leave.

"Whatcha doin'?"

Garibaldi forced himself not to laugh; Marcus's British accent made him sound absolutely ridiculous when he spoke that way. "Checking something out."

"Oh, I see," Marcus commented. "You know, Michael, I love how you're always so specific with your answers."

Exhaling loudly, and deciding he might as well just give up, Garibaldi said, "Fine. You win. I received a report of an unexplained energy surge over there from Ivanova a few minutes ago; she asked me to look into it. Happy?"

Marcus grinned adorably as the pair approached the lift. "Quite. Thank you."

"Welcome," Garibaldi mumbled, as he placed his hand unceremoniously on the button for the lift. The door slid open, and he strode in.

As Garibaldi had anticipated, Marcus stuck his head through the door. "Mind if I tag along?"

He stared at the Ranger's Jesus-esque face blankly.

"Good; I'll take that as a no," Marcus declared, ambling in after Garibaldi as the door shut.

Wincing, Garibaldi called out "Loading Bay 3" to the lift's computer system.

* * *

><p>"Ooh, an adventure!" Marcus mused, traipsing out of the lift with an air of childish wonder. "How exciting!"<p>

Stifling a groan of annoyance, Garibaldi exited the lift cautiously, his station-issue gun drawn.

His topaz-blue eyes falling on his reluctant-to-admit-himself-a-friend, Marcus probed incredulously, "Why the gun? It's an _energy surge_, not Jack the Ripper!"

"Naw, he was here last year," Garibaldi replied nonchalantly, taking a few steps in front of a very confused Marcus. "Come on. This way," he beckoned, motioning forward with his gun.

Rapidly regaining composure, Marcus tugged on Garibaldi's sleeve. "We're going on an _adventure_, Michael! Yeah, Michael, an _adventure_!"

_Dear God,_ Garibaldi thought, his trigger finger itching, _please stop me from shooting him._

Marcus proceeded to poke Garibaldi's arm. "Michael…Michael…Miiiiichaaaaelll…."

"_WHAT_?" Garibaldi roared, battling his strong desire to fill Marcus with hot lead…or in this case…what _was_ in that gun, anyway?...photons?

"We're on a bridge, Michael!"

Garibaldi halted, observing their surroundings; all he could see were the cold steel walls and floors of the loading bay, not to mention a few dozen boxes. "Uh…no we're not."

Marcus slumped his shoulders in defeat. "Oh, never mind; you've obviously never watched _Charlie the Unicorn_," he sulked.

"I prefer Daffy Duck," Garibaldi justified. Anyone who knew him at all knew this to be true, especially if they had ever been to his quarters. Not only does he watch old Daffy Duck cartoons incessantly, but he also has a framed portrait of the iconic figure above his bed.

"Oof!"

*crash*

"…ouch."

Garibaldi and Marcus pivoted to face each other, Garibaldi aiming his gun at Marcus and Marcus wielding his "pop-up" Minbari battlestaff.

"Was that you?" Garibaldi probed, cocking his head.

Marcus looked extremely offended. "Do I sound like a _woman_ to you?"

"Little help over here," the female voice called out from the other side of the room.

Breaking his gaze from the clueless stare he and Garibaldi were sharing, Marcus allowed his eyes to search the area. Fixating them on something up on the catwalk, he said, "Michael?"

"What, Marcus?"

"Did Susan only say that there was an energy surge down here?"

"Yoo-hoo!" the woman called again. "Could someone help me get up?"

Half-ignoring her, Garibaldi replied, "No…she also said scanners were picking up an unidentified object of some sort. Why?"

Slowly, Marcus raised his battlestaff to point at the object of interest. When Garibaldi tilted his head to see it, his jaw dropped in disbelief. There, standing at the far end of the metal catwalk, was a blue police box; just like the ones scattered all about England in the 20th century, with a blue light atop it. Its door was swinging lazily on its hinges, hanging over the side of the walkway. Finally putting two and two together, they dashed in its general direction to search for the owner of the voice.

"_There _you two are! It's about bloody time—ouch! Watch the arm!"

Marcus caught hold of Garibaldi's arm and prevented him from tripping over the young woman sprawled across the floor; he had kicked her arm while walking, and had knocked himself off-balance. While Garibaldi processed what had happened, Marcus helped the girl to her feet.

"Thanks," she said, smiling gratefully at Marcus. She had long auburn hair and dazzling dark green eyes. She wore a red plaid shirt, a dark blue denim miniskirt, and black leggings. "Sorry to drop in like this; The Doctor doesn't know how to fly his own box sometimes."

"I heard that!" came a voice from up inside the police box.

She blatantly ignored him. "Who are you lot? Where are we?"

"I'll be asking the questions, if you don't mind," Garibaldi interjected with an air of authority.

"Michael!" Marcus hissed, elbowing him violently. Retracting his battlestaff and tucking it away in a pocket in his cloak, he turned to the woman and apologized, "Please, pardon my friend; he's got a guard dog complex. My name's Marcus Cole, and this is Security Chief Michael Garibaldi."

"Explains the complex," she muttered. "Nice to meet you. I'm Amelia Pond; my directionally challenged friend is The Doctor," she added, pointing up at the cobalt-blue box.

"I heard _that_ too, Amy!" The Doctor declared, reaching the doorway and leaning out of it. He scanned the air in front of him as though expecting them to be at eye-level, before looking down at them in confusion. "My, that is quite a fall. Lucky you didn't break anything. Then again, you're too stubborn to break anything…to stubborn to even die properly. Granted, I suppose that was my doing. Anyhow, Security Chief, you say? Security Chief of what exactly?"

"He certainly _is_ quirky, isn't he?" Marcus commented.

Garibaldi scoffed in bemusement. Quirky was an understatement. He was clad in a pair of black dress slacks, a tan suitcoat, a white button-up shirt, suspenders, a crimson bowtie, and…a fez?

"_Babylon 5_," he managed, still gawking at him as if he were half-fish.

"_Babylon 5_?" The Doctor repeated, sitting down in the doorway of the blue box and dangling his legs over the edge of the walkway. "As in Babel? Like, the place with the tower that Elton John wrote a song about? Brilliant singer, him. Absolutely brilliant. Who else could write an entire song about elderberry wine?"

"I like 'The Bitch is Back', personally," Marcus commented quietly, causing Amy to giggle slightly.

"It's a space station," Garibaldi growled impatiently.

"Oh, goody!" The Doctor exclaimed, clapping his hands like an excited four-year-old. "I haven't been on a space station in quite some time. Almost…300 years now, I think."

"300 years?" Garibaldi echoed.

"Yes, 300 years, Baldy," The Doctor said. "Let me guess: the hair you lost is clogging your ears?"

Marcus grabbed hold of Garibaldi's arm before he could even think about shooting the funny little man in the equally funny little hat. "Amy said you were a doctor. Doctor Who?"

The Doctor winked and mimed shooting at him with his finger. "Exactly."

"Uh, Doctor?" Amy interjected.

"Hm?"

"We're on a space station."

"I know! Isn't it wonderful?"

She seemed to be straining to keep hold of her patience. "Which means we're _not_ in ancient Egypt."

After a few moment of confused silence, his eyes grew wide and his mouth gaped. "Right you are, Pond!" he declared, standing up and tossing her down a rope. "All aboard the TARDIS! ...well, only if your name is Amelia Pond."

Any smirked, rolling her eyes. Turning back to Marcus and Garibaldi, she said, "Trust me; after a while, his spastic-ness becomes endearing."

Garibaldi chuckled. "Lucky for him. Now, you two are just gonna get the hell outta Dodge?"

She shrugged slightly. "Basically. Why?"

"Because, I need to explain to Commander Ivanova how the object she received reports of just dematerialized."

"Tell her the truth," Amy replied, firmly grasping the rope.

"Yes, go with that," The Doctor agreed, pulling Amy into that TARDIS. "Why deny the poor woman the truth? Granted, she might think you're lying to her and smack your face…but whatever."

"I'll have Marcus tell her," Garibaldi said, smiling deviously.

"Why _me_?" Marcus shrieked.

"She likes you."

"She _does_?" Marcus asked hopefully, as the TARDIS vanished in a glimmer of light.

Garibaldi nodded. "Yep. Just don't tell her I told you," he added hastily.

Marcus gave one of his signature adorable-beyond-all-reason grins; Garibaldi could see the wheels turning.

"Marcus…." he warned.

Blatantly ignoring him, Marcus took off running out of the loading bay, bolting towards the bridge, all the while shouting: "_Susan_!"

**THE END.**


End file.
